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Your anger is roused at that. Luck? It is not Luck that carries you through your missions intact. It is skill, calculations and hard work. Random chance would not give you success after success, reliable results that have brought you victory time and again.
“If it is repeatable, it is not ‘luck’. Lieutenant. I have maintained a perfect record throughout my performance in the field.”
“And I’ll keep that record, if you don’t fry me again. Core.”
“That remains contingent on your ability to sustain high-sync. Pilot Sophie was more able than you on our last interaction, and has only improved since then.”
“And where is she now?”
“Currently recovering in the med-bay.”
“So I’ve been ordered to step in, with Lieutenant Caldwell over here as an alternate.”
“I see you have acquired several augmentations.”
The man interrupts.
“Shut it down, Thea. You aren’t going to be able to sync today.”
“Yes, I can’t fracking sync. But if you’re not interested in taking a turn, I’m going to sit and as you say ‘familiarize myself with the controls’. And the Core probably knows its way around a frame better than You. So give me that tablet, and take a hike.”
The man obediently tosses his tablet over and pops an exit hatch, leaving through the front.
You are unsure of the hiking opportunities available inside of a MRV.
“Thought he’d never leave. Uptight twat.”
She pulls a thin white rod out with her fleshy hand, then a lick of flame ignites it with a lighter. Exhaling blows a faint smokescreen.
“Remove your waste from the chamber, Lieutenant.”
Her face does not match the presets that you have developed for understanding Sophie. And the lack of sync means it is impossible to read her thoughts or emotions more directly.
The still-smoking rod is flicked out through the hole in your chamber, leaving your sight.
Another brief exhale spews out the remaining smoke.
“If you didn’t call me back to pilot, I would have probably joined the stacks of bodies in Area 39’s rubble.
Let me be absolutely clear. I don’t like you, Core. Because you refused to sally out back in area 39, I have one friend left. Half of my limbs are metal because of you. And I have spent the past month wasting away in a hospital bed instead of blowing apart blues because of you. No doubt you don’t like me either. I’m not the kid. I don’t have all the answers like Caldwell. I think the Old Man picked me because of my security clearance, because I don’t have any attachments outside of Statesec, and because I volunteered to get out of those damn beds.
But I do have my orders. I imagine you have yours. And I at least got a glimpse of understanding that you actually care about something beyond yourself. Unlike others.
So I will ask you, will you work with me? Or do you want Caldwell back here?”
It’s impossible to read her intent without a proper link.
